One Night Only
by Supernatural-flavored-lollipop
Summary: Sam and Dean go undercover at a college campus, where students have been mysteriously dying right before an International Festival. (Request)


One Night Only

2007

"I know your fake badges are good, Sammy, but I really can't believe the dean of students bought our "Feds going undercover posing as students" bullshit." Dean said under his breath to his brother as they made their way down the dormitory hallway.

"They've had six murders on campus. We could have told them we were Reno 911 going undercover and they'd have let us. They're desperate." Sam shrugged. "I'm just worried _you_ won't be able to do this."

"What do you mean?"

"You've never done college, Dean."

"Yeah? What's there to worry about? We have a place to sleep, free meals, a nice library with internet access for you to do research... you worry too much. Besides, you're a pro at this college thing. I'll follow your lead."

"We'll be constantly surrounded by girls. That's what I'm worried about." Sam frowned as his brother's eyes trailed yet another female form down the hallway. "Co-ed dormitories and Dean Winchester don't seem like a good idea."

"You underestimate me. I'll be fine. I'm a professional." They reached the door to their temporary dorm room, and Dean turned to Sam. "I'm a Fed, after all." He winked at him.

"Yeah, _Agent Bono_. The consummate professional." Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean chuckled to himself, unlocked the door, and threw it open. He took into their new home. "Wow... it's... smaller than I thought it would be."

"Bet you hear that a lot." Sam said under his breath. Dean smacked him upside the back of the head.

"I just thought, you know, a fancy college... seriously, two people are supposed to share one of these rooms for an entire year? _Two strangers?_" Dean tossed his knapsack on one of the twin beds. "Where the fuck is the bathroom?" He opened a small door to the left. "Jesus, it's like a closet in here. Look at this shower. It's the size of a beer can. I honestly don't know if you'll fit in it, Sammy!" Dean called out from the bathroom.

Sam rolled his eyes and sat on his bed, pulling out his laptop. "I'll be fine Dean. I've done all this before."

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom doorway. "Water pressure isn't bad." He ducked back in, turned the water off, and came back out. "Seriously, you shared a broom closet with a stranger? For a year?"

"For a couple years, til I moved in with Jess." Sam nodded, lost in his research.

"How much did that suck?"

"Not much worse than being stuck in the car all the time with you and dad hunting monsters."

"That hurts, Sammy, that hurts."

Later that day, the brothers sat in the cafeteria, eating lunch and discussing the case. Well, Sam was trying to discuss the case. Dean was getting distracted by girls.

"Dean, you realize the oldest student here is 23, tops, right?" Sam finally asked him, sighing and putting down his fork. "You're ancient compared to them."

"Yeah, but I still have my youthful good looks." Dean smiled at a perky blonde who walked by. She grinned and pinky waved back at him.

"Seriously Dean?" Sam gave him a hard look. "_Six dead coeds. Concentrate._"

"Sorry. You're right." Dean focused on Sam. "What do we have so far?"

"Okay, so basically, I've pieced together this much. There's some International Festival going on this friday, and each of the victims were scheduled to perform in the show." Sam held up his hands, palms up. "All drained of blood. That's all I've got. The only connection."

"What kind of performances?" Dean asked him.

"Different kinds. One just had a piece in the art exhibit. One was doing a play. Two were performing dances, one was singing, and one was telling a traditional folktale in Russian. Something about a swan."

Dean looked at Sam's file from the police department. "All doors and windows locked from the inside... ghost, maybe?"

"Maybe. I mean, unless something got in through the vents. But why would a ghost be targeting a bunch of students in a festival?" Sam noticed Dean's eyes begin to wander again. "Dean, focus. _Jesus._"

"Maybe there was an accident or something and they died at another International Festival? Look up previous years. How long has this festival been going on?" Dean snapped back to attention.

Sam tapped on his keyboard. "Um... this is the first one." He sighed. "I can crosscheck strange deaths at the performing arts center, at the school, and at all other shows at the school... it's gonna take a while. I'm gonna head back to the room."

"I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna come with me." Sam stated bluntly.

"I was gonna go have a look around campus."

"Like hell you were. We can go have a look around later. You can help me research right now." Sam stood, clearing their trays. "You were gonna chase tail, and you know it."

Dean stood up sheepishly and followed his brother. "I really was going to go check out the performing arts center."

"Fine. I'll go with you. Let's just do it now." Sam headed out the door. Dean followed him out. They made their way across campus to the large building, and pushed open the doors. They made their way through a lobby area, and could hear music playing through another set of doors. They looked at each other.

"You think that's normal music, or ghostly shit?" Dean asked his brother quietly.

Sam shrugged. They both pulled their guns from their waistbands and slowly pushed the doors open.

Dean's eyes went wide.

The room was empty save for a single young woman on the stage, danging and chanting along with some music that was playing on the sound system.

"Damn that's hot." Dean said under his breath.

Sam rolled his eyes. "She's Hula dancing, Dean. Like, traditional Hula dancing. Get your jaw up off the floor. And put your gun away before she sees it!"

Dean hastily tucked his gun in the back of his jeans as the young woman turned around in one fluid motion, finishing her dance. Her eyes looked up and met Dean's. She stopped, hands on hips.

"I'm supposed to have this place to myself to practice for the whole hour. Sorry, but my time's not up yet." You called out to the two men who were standing in the doorway. You looked at your watch. You still had twenty minutes left- enough time to run through your dance a couple more times. You were feeling pretty good about it, but still not perfect. When neither of them responded, you raised your eyebrows. "Hello? Can I help you with something?"

The taller one cleared his throat. "No, sorry to bother you, miss, we were just leaving-"

He was interrupted by the shorter one. "That was amazing! I'd love to see the whole thing."

You looked at him skeptically. "You'll have to come to the show then." You stepped down the steps at the side of the stage and made your way over to them. "I don't do sneak previews."

"That's too bad." The man looked a little wistful.

"Are you lost or something?" You asked him.

"Uh, actually, we're, uh, transfer students. I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam. And we're just checking the place out. We didn't realize there would be anyone here." The man extended his hand. You shook it. He had a firm handshake.

"Yeah, just practicing. I'm Y/N. And I should really get back to it. I only have the theater for another fifteen minutes now." You motioned back at the stage.

"Do you live on campus?" Dean asked you. His brother nudged him.

"Yeah, I do." You nodded.

"Maybe I could buy you a drink tonight? After you're done?" Dean looked at you with the greenest eyes you'd ever seen. "I mean... you're old enough to drink right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes. I'm old enough to drink." You thought about this for a second. It'd been a while since you'd been out, and you'd been working hard on your performance and in your classes. "Sure, Dean. I'll meet you for a beer. At the campus pub. Eight o'clock?"

"Sounds great." He flashed you a smile, and he and Sam left. You quickly reset your music and began your dance again. Now you only had ten minutes. Dean owed you a good beer for taking up precious rehearsal time.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam asked Dean as they left. "We're supposed to be catching a killer ghost. Not getting dates with dancers!"

"I can do both." Dean shot his brother a look. "You can go look up the campus history in the library, and I'll go wine and dine Y/N and ask her about the festival and the recent deaths. Maybe she knows something. Besides, if all of the victims were performers, it's really my duty to keep her safe."

"Yeah, you're practically Sir Lancelot." Sam replied drily.

"I like the sound of that."

"Lancelot was technically a traitor." Sam shot Dean a smug look, and headed for the library.

"I resent that implication!" Dean called after him. He turned and headed back to their dorm room to get ready for his date with Y/N. Despite whatever his brother was thinking, he really _was_ going to try to find out as much information as he could that would be relevent to the case. And if she just happened to fall into bed with him, well, that would be cool, too.

You rolled into the pub exactly at 8pm, and saw Dean there, at a table in the back. You waved, and approached, sliding into the booth across from him. You weren't used to dating. It wasn't that you didn't get asked out- it was that you had a lot of extracurricular activities and quite frankly, weren't interested in the people doing the asking most of the time. But this guy seemed different. He seemed a little older; maybe he'd gotten a late start on the whole college thing. He seemed a little more worldly.

"Hello, Dean." You smiled at him, setting your bag down next to you.

"Hi, Y/N." He said. He grinned at you, kind of goofily, actually. "Can I order you something to drink?"

"I'll have a margarita. On the rocks. Thanks." You replied. "So you're a transfer student?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Both Sammy and I came here. It's our dream school."

"Both of you? Together?" You thought that was a little codependent, but didn't want to say anything.

"Yeah. Sam kinda followed me." Dean shrugged. "What can ya do, right?"

"What school did you transfer from? What are you majoring in?"

Dean looked panicked for a few seconds. "Uh, University of Southern California. I'm a Journalism Major, and Sam's Pre-Law. What about you?"

"Multi-Cultural Studies. I'd like to teach history." You smiled politely as the waitress brought your margarita. "You know you got here just in time for a crime wave, right?"

"Yeah, I heard about that. Admissions kind of glossed over it when we arrived... what exactly _is _going on? I heard like, five, six people have been killed?" Dean leaned in towards you. You let out an audible sigh. If admissions had mentioned it, that meant the killings had happened _before_ Dean and his brother had arrived. At least now you knew you weren't on a date with a serial killer.

"Well, it's kind of crazy, the stuff I've heard." You took a drink. "All of the students killed were locked in their rooms, alone. When they were found their throats had been slit, they had no blood left in them, the rooms were freezing cold, and the doors and windows were still locked from the inside." You shivered. "It's spooky."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

You looked at Dean skeptically. "_Please._" You rolled your eyes. "I believe in a psycho with a lock pick, not a ghost. I'm an adult."

Dean nodded slowly. "That _is_ creepy. And I heard all of the victims were about to be in this show coming up. The one you were practicing for." He took a swig of beer. "Swell dancing, by the way."

Sam's eyes felt like they were going to fall from his head. He'd been sitting in front of the computer for hours. So far, there had been plenty of campus deaths, but none linked directly to the performing arts center, since it had been built only the year before, and this International Festival was it's first show ever. The school was over 100 years old- there were roughly as many deaths. He'd ruled many of them out as accidents that were unlikely to produce vengeful spirits. He seemed to be at a loss. He wondered how Dean's date with the dancer was going. Knowing Dean, it was probably going great and he'd already gotten her into bed, and Sam would be sleeping crammed in the back seat of the Impala tonight.

He stood up and stretched, then pulled up an article on the groundbreaking ceremony for the performing arts center. It had been dedicated to someone. A Cecil A. Morse. He decided to check out who this guy was. Entering his name into the search engine, it instantly pulled up a ton of hits. "Teenager Killed At University," "Gun Accident Takes Life of Promising Student."

"This may be something." Sam leaned in closer and began to read.

"I had a good night. Thanks for walking me home." Y/N told Dean, smiling up at him. He'd walked her to the outer door of her dorm room. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't muster up the courage to invite her to _his _dorm room. _What's wrong with me?_ He wondered. _I'm off my game. _

"Well, I couldn't let you walk alone. There's a lunatic out there." Dean grinned, feeling a bit dorky. "Plus, I'm not a douche."

"Okay..." Y/N nodded, making her way slowly to the door. "Well, maybe I'll see you around. You should come to the festival. I'll be dancing and... you already know that."

Dean nodded, a little too much. "Oh yeah. I'll definitely be there. I love Hula." He grinned. "Have a good night!" He stepped backwards, nearly tripping off of the step, catching himself at the last minute. He looked at her sheepishly and gave her a small wave, then turned and walked off into the night.

_I love Hula? I'm not a douche?_ He sighed to himself. _I'm a huge douche! What the hell, Dean! You just struck out, you fucking goon! _

His phone rang and he looked at it. It was Sam. "What's up. Please tell me you have good news."

"Please tell me you're alone and didn't hang a sock on the doorknob." Sam said to him.

"What? Yeah, I'm alone... why would I put one of my socks on the doorknob?"

"Right. You never went to college. Okay then. Listen, I found something, and I have a question for you." Sam sounded kind of worried.

"Yeah, let's hear it." Dean wanted anything to take his mind off of his utterly moronic end to the date with Y/N.

"What are the odds we can get away with burning down the performing arts center?"

"Friggin what?!"

_to be continued_


End file.
